Reckless Viscount Read online

  “No need to worry, Irish. I am not one to carry tales. Besides,” he added with a jaunty nod of his head as she stepped away from him and started across the library, “we have not exchanged names. I haven’t the slightest idea who you are.”

  For some reason, his words gave her pause. She stopped and glanced back at him over her shoulder. Then a gentle smile crept across her full lips, as if she had just discovered a delightful treasure she intended to keep all to herself.

  “Again, you are quite correct,” she replied after a moment, “and isn’t it lovely.”

  The dancing lilt of pleasure in her voice was unmistakable, as was the jubilant little spring that lightened her steps as she continued from the room.

  Leif watched the delicate sway of her backside until she was out of sight. The unique sound of her voice flitted through his brain like a trapped butterfly and the scent of her lingered in the atmosphere where he stood. It took him another moment to free himself from the sensual snare the unusual woman had caught him in without even trying.

  Then he chuckled. An odd little creature indeed, and one he hoped to encounter again. Shaking off the last of his distraction, he turned toward the door at his side and pressed his ear to the solid wood surface.

  Chapter Two

  Abbigael Granger waited until she was out of view of the library before she sprinted across the grand hall to the main stairway. In her agitation, she took a wrong turn at the top of the stairs and had to backtrack to find the bedroom she had first been shown to just a few hours earlier.

  She closed the door behind her and gave the lock a turn for good measure. Then felt foolish for doing so and turned the lock back again.

  She was not usually so flustered. But then again, she had never before been caught in such a humiliating position. Her cheeks burned with shame and she pressed her hands to her face as she paced to the casement window.

  Eavesdropping on her hosts before they had even agreed to her father’s request.

  How utterly stupid.

  Abbigael unlatched the windows and threw them wide. The brisk air of the Essex countryside swept into the room and cooled the heat in her cheeks. The open windows presented a stunning view of the Blackbournes’s manicured gardens not yet fully awaked from the winter. In the distance, a faint shimmer of silver reflecting in the afternoon sun hinted at the presence of a trout stream.

  Abbigael should have been delighted by the sight as she loved fishing. But at the moment, her thoughts were not coming together in a normal fashion. The pleasant scene spread out before her faded away from the image of a grinning rogue with lightly tousled caramel-colored hair, eyes that were neither blue nor green nor hazel but some unique mixture of them all, and a manner that was far too bold.

  Oh, Abbigael had met bold men before. Some of her father’s political cronies could stand to take a few lessons in social restraint. But she had never before been the object of such…suggestive attention.

  The handsome man from the library had an overabundance of charm and had displayed no moral reticence as he taunted her for his own amusement. He knew what he was about, to be sure. No honorable gentleman would have spoken to her in such a brazen and suggestive manner. He had almost drawn her in with the soothing rhythm of his words and what she at first thought might be a glint of real appreciation in his gaze. Luckily, she’d caught herself before she managed to make an even bigger fool of herself. The golden sparkle in his eyes was more likely the flash of careless mischief and willful wickedness, certainly not a reflection of sincere and honorable interest.

  She turned away from the window and crossed to the enormous four-poster bed that dominated the room. She lifted her skirts to climb onto the high mattress and stretch out crossways on her stomach, folding her hands beneath her chin.

  Whoever he was, Abbigael hoped she would not have cause to see him again. Not only had he been witness to her shameful behavior, he also made her feel acutely aware of herself in a way that was decidedly uncomfortable. There had been a few brief moments when she had felt as if she were seeing herself through his eyes, and in doing so had seen something unexpected and unusual.

  And she did not like that one bit.

  She needed everyone to see her as no different than any of the other young ladies out hunting for a worthy husband. At twenty-one years of age, she was already going to be older than most of the other girls. Add to that the fact that she was from Ireland and no raving beauty and she already had enough to overcome. She did not need the added burden of being seen as an oddity.

  A bright thought sparked through her melancholy mood and she scrambled to her knees in the center of the bed. The encounter with the unknown gentleman had proven one thing in her favor. The fact that he, scoundrel though he was, considered her for a brief interlude of flirtation gave her hope beyond measure that her trip to England may be successful after all. What he had said just before she left was perhaps her greatest advantage. No one here knew her.

  But she wasn’t naïve.

  Her past was known by too many, and she only had so much time before someone recalled the gossip connected to her name. Her father, as powerful as he was in Dublin, had not been able to stem the tide of malicious talk that had doomed her chances of marriage in Ireland. She prayed London might be far enough from home to give her a chance, because once the rumors from her past came to light, even her immense dowry and her father’s political connections wouldn’t be enough to attract the husband she craved.

  A sharp knock at her door startled Abbigael from her musings.

  “Miss Granger? It is Anna Sinclair. May I come in?”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake, it was the Countess of Blackbourne herself.

  She had expected her father to come up and tell her if she was to stay on in England. She had not expected the lady of the house to personally seek her out.

  Abbigael scrambled atop the mattress, trying to shift herself in a more decorous position as she replied. “Yes, of course, my lady. Please come in.”

  The door opened instantly and the countess swept forcefully into the room.

  Lady Blackbourne was an exceptionally beautiful woman. Tall and black-haired with exotic dark eyes. From the moment she had been introduced, Abbigael had sensed in the lady a force akin to that in nature—unrelenting and determined, yet soft and kind in the subtle ways that mattered.

  Her father had warned her that the countess was an eccentric, a noblewoman who engaged in business as the proprietor of a renowned Thoroughbred racing stables. But the lady’s husband, the Earl of Blackbourne, was a distant cousin and Abbigael’s best chance at receiving a proper reception in London society.

  If they agreed to sponsor her.

  Her cheeks burned again as she recalled her deplorable behavior in the library. She would be mortified if the grand lady discovered she had tried to listen in on what had been intended as a private interview between the Blackbournes and her father.

  She hoped the rogue who had witnessed her actions could be trusted not to carry tales of what he had seen.

  Lady Blackbourne smiled as she approached, waving a hand for Abbigael to stay put when she would have slid to the edge of the bed to stand. The countess came forward and sat down beside her. Abbigael tucked her feet beneath her skirt and tried to straighten her posture.

  Settling herself with effortless grace, Lady Blackbourne turned to face her with warmth in her easy smile.

  “Miss Granger…may I call you Abbigael?” At Abbigael’s silent nod, the lady’s smile widened. “Excellent. You’ll learn I’m not very good with formalities.”

  Abbigael almost released a sigh of relief but caught herself. The difference between what she and Lady Blackbourne considered formal could be counties apart.

  “Yes, my lady,” she responded politely.

  “Anna, please, when we are alone at least.” Elegant brows arched over darkly intelligent eyes. “I cannot seem to get used to my lady and prefer to avoid it whenever possible.”

  A
bbigael was surprised to see that the countess appeared to be genuinely opposed to the formality of her station. Apparently, the lady was eccentric in ways more personal than simply being in business. Although Lady Blackbourne’s up-front demeanor was unusual to say the least, Abbigael appreciated the lack of prevarication.

  “Of course, as you wish,” she answered quickly, seeing that the countess was waiting for her response.

  “All right then.” With a smile and a nod, Lady Blackbourne shifted on the bed, lifting her skirts out of her way as she turned to face Abbigael more fully. “Now that we are on more comfortable terms, shall we get down to the business of your visit?”

  Abbigael blinked at the abrupt change in tone and topic. There was a formidable layer of command in the lady’s voice that was assuring and intimidating at the same time.

  Abbigael was instantly wary.

  “I believe my father intended to discuss that with you and Lord Blackbourne himself,” she replied carefully.

  Sir Felix Granger would have been very cautious in what he chose to reveal to the Blackbournes. Ever the politician, he would give them just enough information so he could not be accused of hiding anything, but not so much he might scare them off.

  Abbigael’s was a prickly situation.

  Lady Blackbourne waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Conversations between respectable gentlemen in wood-paneled rooms rarely get to the heart of any matter. Sir Felix thoroughly explained the logistics of the issue. I understand there are circumstances from your past that could give rise to damaging rumors if given the chance. However, I need to learn a bit more about you, my dear, if I am to help you.”

  Abbigael tensed. The lady seemed kind enough, but history had taught Abbigael to guard against questions that delved into her personal past.

  She shifted her seat and noticed one of her legs had fallen asleep folded beneath her as it was. She shifted again, trying to alleviate the painful prickles in her calf and foot and started to panic just a bit. They sat on the bed as if they were two school girls sharing confidences, but Abbigael was acutely aware of the vital importance of their conversation.

  She looked at the grand lady seated next to her on the bed and took a deep breath. She had no choice but to trust the countess.

  “Perhaps my father did not get a chance to go into some of the details of my past…”

  “My dear,” the countess interrupted as she leaned forward and took Abbigael’s slim hands in both of hers. “Do not distress yourself. Your father told us everything he felt was pertinent to our agreeing to sponsor your London debut.” Her black brows lowered sternly. “To tell the truth, I think far too much was made of a situation that may have been better handled with sympathy and understanding. Grief touches us each in its own way. All we can hope to do is ride it out the best we can.”

  The countess gave Abbigael’s hands a gentle squeeze and her eyes were filled with warmth as she continued, “I am deeply sorry you lost your mother at such a delicate age. Although time may have dimmed the pain, I know the wounds inflicted by some losses can never be healed.”

  Abbigael stared at the lady with stunned gratitude. Never had anyone addressed the issue with such straight-forward compassion.

  “Thank you, my lady.”

  The countess smiled. “We will, of course, handle the elements of your past with discretion and care. Though I learned the hard way that these things are often best handled by being faced head on. London high society can be terribly intolerant.”

  Hope burgeoned in Abbigael’s tight chest.

  “My lady—“

  “Anna, please.”

  “Anna, are you saying that you and Lord Blackbourne have agreed to my father’s request?”

  “Of course.”

  Abbigael didn’t realize just how intensely she had been craving that answer until she nearly fainted from the strength of her relief. She tightened her grip on the countess’s hands and leaned forward in an earnest expression of gratitude.

  “Thank you, my l—Anna. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  Lady Blackbourne smiled at Abbigael’s enthusiasm.

  “That is why I came to talk with you. If I am to assist you, I need to know what you want. A husband, yes, I get that,” she said as Abbigael opened her mouth to reply. “Your father has made it clear that he hopes you will find a solid and proper match during the London season. But I want to know what you want. What does your heart yearn for above all else?”

  Lady Blackbourne’s dark eyes searched her face in silence and compassion as she waited for an answer.

  Abbigael got the very sharp impression that this woman understood what it was to dwell in dark thoughts and hope for brighter days. The empathy in the older woman’s gaze smoothed away some of Abbigael’s typical reticence. She struggled to trust the soft voice in her soul urging her to accept the friendship Lady Blackbourne offered. It was unbelievably tempting to respond to the romanticized question by expounding upon the years of loneliness and solitude that had gone on for far too long, or the grief that was still a part of every day she breathed.

  But distrust and betrayal had been too prevalent in her life, and Abbigael answered with as much honesty as she felt safe to allow.

  “I want a man I can depend upon. A husband who is steady and kind. And children to love.” She blushed at the last, fearing it revealed too much, but she refused to glance away from Lady Blackbourne’s keen regard. She could not afford to appear anything less than firmly resolved in her endeavor to gain what she sought. Finding her a suitable husband amongst English aristocracy was not going to be an easy task.

  Her father insisted upon a match with a peer. In spite of everything, he had high ambitions and would only agree to a union that was both socially and politically advantageous. In discussing strategy with the Blackbournes, he very likely put a great deal of stress on the idea of keeping away any prospects who had nothing to offer and were only interested in her sizeable dowry.

  Unfortunately, her fortune was likely to be the only thing strong enough to lure in a proposal.

  Abbigael waited for the lady to respond, feeling more exposed with every second the other woman silently contemplated her answer.

  Finally, Lady Blackbourne smiled in a way that transformed her resolute features into an expression that was slightly wistful.

  “Then that is what you shall have. I promise to do everything in my power to help you attain such a worthy goal.”

  “And I will do all I can to ensure you don’t regret your decision to help me,” Abbigael replied with fierce determination. She had no intention of squandering her last chance at the future she yearned for.

  “Well, let’s hope your commitment comes with a heavy dose of endurance.” The countess’s voice held a note of somber advice. “The London social whirl can be brutal and most of the work will rest on your shoulders. The Blackbourne name will get you through some heavy doors, but after that you will be much on your own.”

  Abbigael nodded in understanding, but the warning couldn’t dim the smile that spread her lips.

  “Excellent,” the countess exclaimed as she slid to the edge of the bed. “I hope you will be settled in enough to join us for dinner tonight. Just the family, so nothing too formal.”

  “I would love to.” Abbigael struggled with the curiosity that urged her to ask about the man from the library. She decided it was better to anticipate another run-in with him than to be surprised. “Lady Blackbourne, if I may ask, will your other guest be at dinner?”

  The countess frowned and looked at Abbigael curiously.

  “Ah, what other guest?”

  Abbigael tried to answer with a degree of nonchalance she didn’t necessarily feel.

  “I ran into a young man while I was in the library. I’m afraid we didn’t exchange names.”

  “A young man?” the lady asked. “Handsome?”

  Abbigael nodded, trying to subdue the warmth that invaded her cheeks. If she had had a
ny doubt as to the inappropriateness of her encounter with the mysterious stranger, the countess’s hesitation in answering confirmed that the man was one to avoid.

  “It must have been Baron Riley, though he claimed he would be returning to London this morning.”

  Abbigael was reminded of the man’s rather loose interpretation of the time of day.

  “Did Lord Riley speak to you?”

  Abbigael heard the sharp note of concern in the countess’s question and noted her deepening frown.

  “Only briefly,” she replied. To go into detail about her encounter with the baron could lead to further inquiry into her own purpose in being in the library. Too late, she realized her curiosity about Lord Riley may have backed her into a corner.

  “Brief is good,” the countess muttered quickly. Then, as if realizing the cryptic nature of her response, she leveled Abbigael with a direct stare and explained. “Although he is an old and dear friend of mine, Lord Riley’s social activities define him as a man that is by no stretch of the imagination a suitable acquaintance for a young woman in your particular situation. Do you understand?”

  Abbigael nodded solemnly. It was no less than she had suspected. “I believe I do.”

  Lady Blackbourne eyed her carefully for another moment. Long enough for Abbigael to develop the urge to squirm and wish she had kept her curiosity under lock and key.

  Finally, the countess smiled and made an obvious effort to insert more lightness into her tone. “Well, there is no reason your paths should cross once we are in London, so no need to worry.”

  Chapter Three

  The next week was a whirlwind of activity.

  Abbigael remained with the Blackbournes at their country estate only a few more days before the entire household began to prepare for the move to London.